


how do you like your blueeyed boy / Mister Death

by AutumnPen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, Other, POV Sam Winchester, Things left unsaid, lost opportunities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnPen/pseuds/AutumnPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poem-inspired sad fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how do you like your blueeyed boy / Mister Death

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by e. e. cumming's poem "Buffalo Bill's" (included as part of the fic). Spans from the beginning of season 7 through sometime after Castiel's return in season 8.

_**Buffalo Bill's**_  
  
 _ **defunct**_  
  
Sam's eyes catch on the bundle of dirty tan fabric every time he opens the Impala's trunk.  
  
When Dean had picked the overcoat up, sopping wet with reservoir water, he and Bobby had exchanged silent looks and silent understandings. Neither of them questioned Dean about it.  
  
When Cas comes back – when Sam has the presence of mind to _realize_ he's back – it's just like he isn't, and Sam feels guilty. The angel keeps returning just to get lost again, and, looking at his brother, he can tell it takes a little more out of Dean each time.  
  
Sam wonders how long it will take the both of them to notice this, or if they ever will. He wonders if it even matters now.  
  
        _**who used to**_  
  
 _ **ride a watersmooth-silver**_  
  
 _ **stallion**_  
  
He wonders if he should even be surprised. Sam has never known happiness to be a lengthy visitor, not for himself nor for those he cares for.  
  
A couple of yards away, a mad angel attempts to hand his very disgruntled looking demon nurse a handful of tiny flowers he's pulled from the hospital’s front lawn.  
  
Besides, Sam reminds himself, it was him and Dean who led Castiel to the path of Free Will to begin with. They were the only two constant representatives of humanity in his life – the only people he had to learn from. Was it any wonder that Cas had adopted that good ol' Winchester penchant for self-sacrifice?  
  
 _ **and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat**_  
  
The tiny, offered blooms sit safe, uncrushed, in the curve of Castiel's hand and Sam can't help but think about those same hands, freshly covered in blood.  
  
He can't reconcile these two images. Looking at his own hands, he wonders how Castiel has learned to cradle something so fragile without harming it – if maybe the madness he took from Sam made him forget what his hands were used for before.  
  
                                                  _ **Jesus**_  
  
  
  
 _ **he was a handsome man**_  
  
Sam had thought, really thought, that Cas wouldn't make a come back this time. As if the madness he took from Sam wasn't enough,  both Cas and his brother had disappeared along with Dick Roman.  
  
And Sam tries – _really honestly tries_ – not to notice the way Dean looks at Cas after they're both back from Purgatory. His brother, though, is an impossible mixture of blindingly obvious and  completely oblivious. He wants to tell them to hurry up and get on with it before the next disaster arrives.  
  
He doesn't.  
  
  
                      _**and what i want to know is**_  
  
“Dean-” Sam can't take his eyes off the charcoal outline of feathers his brother is kneeling between.  
  
“ _No_ , Sam.” Dean remains stubbornly hunched over the figure whose head Dean has pulled into his lap, spiting curses down at it. “No, not now you sonuvabitch. Not now.”  
  
When Dean shakes the empty vessel he's holding Sam wants to tell him to stop, that it's pointless, but the crack in Dean's voice stops him.  
  
“You come back, you hear?” Dean tries to make his voice more firm – to form it into the tone his father used to use when he gave him an order. The tone that compelled him to obey. “You come _back_. You come back... Just like you always--”  
  
Dean breaks before he can finish the order-turned-plea, crumpling and pressing his forehead against the corpse's.  
  
For a long time there is no sound, then Sam hears Dean choke out one sobbed syllable,  
  
“Cas.”  
  
 _ **how do you like your blueeyed boy**_  
  
 _ **Mister Death**_  



End file.
